COPS in Lytton
by Balin Lord of Moria
Summary: In this fictitious story, the crew of the police reality show COPS go to Lytton for a special edition of COPS where they observe the police work of the LPD in action. Rated T for crimes in action and some bad language.
1. Opening Titles

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Police Quest_ or the reality show _COPS_. This is a work of fiction being told like an episode of _COPS _in Lytton, California.

* * *

**OPENING TITLES**

_Bad boys! Watcha want? Watcha want? Watcha gonna do?  
__When Sheriff John Brown come for you?__  
_

Lytton police ride their patrol cars and motorcycles through the streets of Lytton. Police rescue women and children from dangerous predicaments.

_Bad boys! Bad boys! Watcha gonna do?  
__Watcha gonna do when they come for you?__  
_

A suspect drums his head against the inside of a patrol car's back door. Another suspect wrestles roughly with two uniformed police who have just arrested him. A third suspect tries to make foot bail from plainclothes police, but together, the police capture and round them up. One more detained suspect is hurled to the ground by a tough cop.

_Bad boys! Bad boys! Watcha gonna do?  
__Watcha gonna do when they come for you?__  
_

_"_COPS_ is filmed on location with the men and women of law enforcement. This special edition of _COPS_ is the first to be filmed on location in the small city of Lytton, California, about 60 miles southeast of Los Angeles, with the men and women of the LPD. All suspects are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law."_


	2. Segment 1

Flashing red-and-blue screen with the word COPS printed on it. Fade-out to a marked patrol car. A handsome officer approaching middle age with glasses and a full mustache is speaking.

* * *

"My name is Officer Joe Walters, of the Lytton Police Department. I've been with the police force for fifteen years, going on sixteen, and I am thirty-eight years old. I've spent the majority of that time as a traffic cop, but I also served two years in Corrections, one year in Vice, and two more in Dispatch. Once I was nominated for "Officer of the Year," but fellow nominee Officer Sonny Bonds won it. The city of Lytton is known for its drug dealing, especially among the kids at Jefferson High School, and many unfortunate kids have been stoned by the dregs of society."

It was the middle of the day in Lytton, CA, and Officer Joe Walters was riding by the high school while his partner drove the patrol car. The COPS crew watched the neighborhood as they drove through it. Suddenly, Walters spoke up again.

"There are a bunch of juveniles outside, and it looks like a few of them are talking quietly in a tight group, possibly a drug sale. Pull up right here, Jake," he said to his partner, Jake Donaldson. Evidently, there _was_ a drug sale happening there. Two suspects, one white and the other black, had just exchanged money and drugs with each other. Walters exited the car and hollered, "Halt! Police officers!"

Both suspects tried to run away, but Walters chased them with speed. The suspects split up, the white one going in one direction, and the black one in another. Walters chased the black one, because he was the one with the drugs. Finally, Walters cornered the suspect at the back of the school. He took down the kid and pushed him to the ground. Soon, his partner Donaldson had caught up.

Walters pulled the boy to his feet. "Put your hands against the wall, son," he said.

"Sir, I didn't mean to-" the kid started to say.

"Hands against the wall, son!" Walters said more sternly. The suspect obeyed. Walters searched him and found a wallet with some money and his school ID card, and a packet of nose candy, coke, to be more precise. Then he cuffed the suspect.

While Donaldson described the other suspect, the one that escaped, to Dispatch, Walters interrogated the kid, who was identified as Jason Potter. "What were you doing, buying illegal drugs for a high, like so many other foolish adolescents have been doing the past few years?"

"Sir, I wasn't going to use that for a high," Jason protested, "I just bought it to do a little experiment for my science class. I'm taking a course in chemistry soon."

"Yes, sure, Jason," said Walters, "Who was that other guy that sold it to you?"

"His name's Johnny Powers, sir," said Jason, "But everyone at school calls him 'the Wizard.'"

"Okay, come with me to my car," Walters instructed him. Joe and Jake escorted the suspect to their patrol car and put him in the back seat. Walters told his partner to search the general area for more dope lying around, or any other evidence related to the crime. "Why do they call him 'the Wizard?' Is it a moniker?"

"We call him that because he can do the most amazing things with sleight-of-hand tricks," said Jason, "That, and because he knows how to make people see the most ecstatic dreams and visions in their minds."

"Okay, then," said Walters, "The dreams and visions he 'causes' are ecstatic, you say. So, in other words, he's a drug runner, right? And I'll bet he sells the drug Ecstasy as well as cocaine, too?"

"No sir," said Jason, "He don't sell no Ecstasy! He's just an illusionist who can also fulfill people's dreams with a little kick-start."

"A little kick-start, you say," Walters replied, "That sounds to me like supplying drugs to the kids at your school, because that's what Ecstasy and coke do."

"Sir, I told you!" Jason said angrily, "I'm not an addict! I just wanted to learn how to make cocaine into something that can help me and other people with our physical pains. I thought I could win a prize in my science class for this. In mean, black folks like me don't get the same kind of glory white folks have been getting in this 'free country' from the beginning. Cocaine _is_ a painkiller, after all, and it isn't entirely illegal in America, like heroin is."

"Yes, Jason," said Walters, "Unfortunately, it _is_ illegal for anyone other than well-educated and _licensed_ doctors to use cocaine in any way in this country. If you brought that into your class, your teacher would swiftly condemn you for daring to bring it in, and he or she wouldn't have hesitated to call the police. Did you ever think of that?"

"Well, no sir, but I was planning in bringing in the coke in a form besides this conspicuous white powder in a clear plastic bag," Jason protested. "The way I would bring it in, I wouldn't have gotten in trouble for anything."

"I'm not so sure about that-" Walters started.

"Yeah, well. I didn't think so," Jason said angrily, "Geez, you goddamn cops can't give an innocent black kid like me a break! Next thing I know, you'll be mocking me by calling me 'boy,' like white cops have always loved to call the poor African-Americans! I'm not a dope addict, and that coke is just for a f***ing experiment. I'm not a f***ing criminal, either! and I'm insulted that you think I am, you son of a bitch!"

"Believe it or not, Jason," Walters said patiently but firmly, "this is not a racial issue here. I've arrested plenty of white kids for crimes far worse than this, and I never took personal pleasure in it. It's all part of the vocation of a police officer, no matter his race. But the point is, you committed a crime, no matter how unwittingly, and you have to at least face a judge once before you can be cleared or convicted of it; and you ran from the police like your dealer did, and I had to take you down. Besides, maybe it didn't occur to you that this Johnny 'the wizard' Powers is probably selling drugs to other kids, too, and that even if you're telling the truth about your 'experiment,' those other kids must be using their dope the old-fashioned way, through the nose and tongue."

"Yeah, well, that's their problem, not mine," Jason said flatly, "I wasn't snorting coke, I just wanted it for an experiment. Even my mama and papa told me it was all right, as long as I didn't steal the coke."

"Well, if they did, your parents might deserve a little talking-to, as well," said Walters. "Anyway, here's what's going to happen. Right now, you're going to jail, on the charges of buying illegal narcotics, and resisting arrest without violence. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be made available to represent you before questioning, if you wish. You understand all of these Miranda rights you have?"

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Jason, "I know all that crap. But I'm telling you, copper, I'm innocent! And I don't care what you claim. You white police are always preying on black folks. You'll never learn to trust us!"

"I have some very good friends who are black, young man," said Walters, "and a few of them are on the Lytton Police Force, like me. You can't pin me with racism if you don't know me, and haven't witnessed me do or say anything racist."

"Says you!" mocked Jason. "My papa has a good lawyer, a good black lawyer, who knows how police brutality has affected our people over the last century. He'll show you a thing or two in your court of law!"

"Yes, so you say," Walters said. "All right, we'll see you in court." That concluded the conversation, but the suspect couldn't help but throw one more line of verbal abuse in.

"Yeah, you will, and I think you should have been paying more attention to the white guy who sold me the drugs if you wanted to arrest somebody. White folks should get punished sometimes, too, you know, especially if they're cops!" He put his feet up in the back seat of the car so Walters could close the door.

"I couldn't agree more, kid," said Walters.

* * *

Fade-out to red-and-blue flashing screen with the word COPS printed on it.

Joe Walters said to Jake Donaldson, "All right. Let's take him to Lytton City Jail. Book him for the narcotics possession, and don't forget to add that he resisted arrest without violence. Send out an APB for the capture of the other suspect, too, one Johnny Powers, white male, nicknamed 'the Wizard.' Suspect took foot bail, may be armed and dangerous."


	3. Segment 2

Flashing red-and-blue screen with the word COPS printed on it. Fade-out to a marked patrol car. An officer in his late middle age is speaking. Beside him sits his partner, a young, attractive female officer.

* * *

"I'm Officer Calvin Haines of the LPD. I have a long history of hard work on the police force, writing citations, arresting drunk drivers, bringing in people exposed to PCP, breaking up illegal deals, all those sorts of things. I'm fifty-five years old now. In all my career, I've never been a detective, just a Traffic cop, a Vice cop, and for about four years a Corrections Officer in the Lytton Jail. Lytton has always been a quiet and quaint little town, decorated by many old-fashioned sub-cultures and antiques, like the Hotel Delphoria, from which several criminal activities used to take place, but obviously it has its fair share of crime, like any other big or small city. It's a hard job, but somebody's got to do it, if the decent people of this town are to rest easy at night. And I, for one, am very proud to serve and protect this town, even after all these years on the force."

Calvin Haines was driving in the patrol car he was presently assigned to around the neighborhood at night. His young partner, Officer Sarah Zuckerman, sat in the passenger seat, ready to take any calls from Dispatch. A call came in at just that moment.

"83-44, this is Dispatch. Respond to an 11-83 at the corner of Oak and 8th."

Zuckerman responded, "10-4, Dispatch, 83-44 en route to 11-83 at Oak and 8th, over."

"Acknowledged, 83-44. Dispatch out."

Haines drove his car at the highest speed possible without violating the law, until they reached their destination. At the corner of Oak and 8th, there was a blue Chevrolet that looked like it had attempted to carve its own door through the side of Lytton's Laundromat. Zuckerman called Dispatch, "Dispatch, this is 83-44. 10-23 at Oak and 8th. Wait for further reports."

"10-4, 83-44," Dispatch replied, "Dispatch out."

A crowd of bystanders were gawking at the ruined car from nearby. Zuckerman ushered them all away from the crash. "Police business, folks. This isn't something you want to look at. Stay back now. There's nothing for you to see here." Some of the people left, but others remained at a safe distance.

Haines checked out the car thoroughly with Zuckerman's help. The car's rear license plate was still on the car. It had the number PL0168 on it.

"Looks like the car retained its license plates, Sarah," he said. "Its license number is PL0168. Take note of that."

"Sure thing, Calvin," said Zuckerman. "Hey, check this out, too. Here's one driver in the car, and no passengers, but look at the driver and see what happened to him!"

"Yeah, I see it," said Haines, "There's a small wound that grazed the side of his head, and another small one in his left shoulder. This doesn't look like any traffic accident to me. This man must have been murdered!"

"Reminds me of the time when Officer Bonds found Lonny West's corpse in his green Sedan at Fig and 4th during the beginning of the case of the Death Angel," Zuckerman reminisced.

"Let's search the car," said Haines, "See if there is any evidence of foul play in it." He walked around to the passenger side of the car and looked in the glove compartment. The guy sitting in the driver's seat kept his driver's license in there, which identified him as Norman Redman, in addition to some handgun ammo.

"Hey, Sarah," said Haines, "Check this out! This man has some bullets in a clip in his glove box. We'd better search the car for a possible handgun."

"Right with you, partner," said young Zuckerman. It didn't take them long to find a .38 millimeter semi-automatic handgun lying on the floor near the driver's right hand.

"It appears there might have been a gunfight between this unlucky citizen and whoever killed him. If this man has a gun, whoever killed him probably used one on him, too."

Suddenly, the driver of the Chevrolet started to open his eyes and moan in his seat in pain.

"Geez!" said a startled Zuckerman. "He's alive! He wasn't killed, only wounded."

"Zuckerman, report to Dispatch about what we've found out so far," said Haines, "And call an ambulance. I'll talk to this unhappy man."

Haines returned to the driver's seat. "Are you Norman Redman?" he asked.

"I'm Fredrick Stone," the man muttered dizzily. Then he noticed that the man who spoke to him was a police officer. "No, no, that was my dizziness speaking! Yes, I am Norman Redman."

Haines blinked. "Are you sure, sir?" he asked, "Somebody just shot you with moderate wounds. I don't think you should lie about your name, even though your license says 'Norman Redman' on it."

"That's who I am, sir," protested Redman/Stone. "Now, can you please do something for this searing pain? I don't wanna die from blood loss!"

"An ambulance is on its way now, mister," said Haines, "They'll take you to the hospital and patch you up as soon as they get here. But I have to check your license through the computer in my patrol car, to make sure you're who you say you are. If you're not, then you'll be going to jail after you recover from your injuries and will be charged for false identity and apparently exchanging gunfire on the streets with another driver."

"Fine," said the man, "Do what you want. I don't care. I just wanted to leave my life behind, but that son of a bitch Lawrence Oldman wouldn't hear of it and tried to bump me off!"

"Lawrence Oldman?" said Haines. "Is he the man who tried to kill you?"

"That's him, the bastard," muttered Redman/Stone. "If I had gotten a better look at his car, I would gladly describe it to you, so you could catch him and stop him too."

"All right, Redman, if that's who you are," said Haines, "I'll check your identity right now. In the meantime, relax yourself. It's the best chance you stand at surviving your ordeal."

The driver nodded and sat back, breathing heavily. On his way back to the patrol car, Haines was stopped by Zuckerman. She said, "An excited young girl in the crowd of bystanders said she saw the whole thing. She said, that while she was coming out of a boutique where she had bought a bouquet of flowers for her house, she saw this car and a dark brown, late-model Ford driving down the street at top speed, neck and neck. When they got closer, she heard a few bangs, which she thought at first were blowouts. But then, this Chevrolet crashed against this brick wall. The dark brown Ford swerved a little, but then straightened itself out and kept on jamming, as she puts it."

"Did she see the other car's license plate number?" Haines asked her.

"Yes," she said, "At least, part of it. It said, OP2314, she thought. Beyond that, she knows nothing more."

"Did anyone else see anything?" asked Haines.

"No, nobody saw a thing, unless they're too afraid or too callous to get involved," said Zuckerman.

"Well, it's a good start," said Haines, "The driver claims the other driver's name was Lawrence Oldman, so unless he's lying, we have a name to go on, too. But I need to check this license and see if it identifies with the injured driver or not, because when he woke up, he gave me a different name than the one on the license, and then claimed to correct himself and called himself Norman Redman, the name on the license."

"What's the other name he gave you?" asked Zuckerman.

"Fredrick Stone."

"Okay, I radioed all the information I got into Dispatch. If you want, I'll do the same for whatever you learn from this unfortunate with the gun and his license."

"Thanks, Sarah," said Haines. He put the license into the computer installed in every police patrol car, marked and unmarked. The name "Norman Redman" came up, but the face with the name didn't look like the driver's face at all, and the height and weight didn't look quite perfect either.

"I'm not too surprised," said Zuckerman, "I had a feeling the license sounded phony, especially from someone with a gun who gave a different name unconsciously, and then consciously changed it to his street name."

"I thought so, too," said Haines. "Zuckerman, radio the rest of all we know to Dispatch. The ambulance is probably almost here by now. I'll tell our lying driver that we know his license is false, and that he'll be arrested after he recovers."

"Sure thing, partner," said Zuckerman.

Haines went back to Stone. "Mr. Stone," he said bluntly, "I know now that your license is a fake. You're not 6' 6", you're not 250 lbs., and you're not Norman Redman. I'm afraid that when more officers get to this scene, you're going to be arrested for false identity and wielding a gun in public traffic, as I said before."

"Awww!" said Stone, "I should've known it wouldn't work! It never seems to work for anybody! Whatever you say, officer! Just hurry up with that damn ambulance. I'm burning and shivering simultaneously in here!"

"Don't worry, Mr. Stone," said Haines, "The ambulance is here now. You have my word they'll take care of you before you are taken to jail. You won't enter jail in pain and suffering."

"Yeah, thanks a lot, dude," said Stone half-sarcastically as an E.M.T. ran over and carefully pulled Stone out of his car and strapped him to a stretcher. Sergeant John Dooley and Homicide Detective Oscar Hamilton entered the scene. Calvin and Zuckerman showed them the ammo and the handgun they had as evidence, showed them the false identity of Stone on the license, and introduced them to the lady who witnessed the crime.

* * *

Fade-out to red-and-blue flashing screen with the word COPS printed on it.

"So, anyway, Sergeant," said Haines, "He said something about wanting to leave his past behind, but evidently he couldn't leave behind his dishonesty, or his weaponry. He carried a fake license and exchanged gunfire with the man who tried to kill him, so after he's healed himself, he'll be going to jail for a while."

"Good work, Officer Haines," said Sergeant Dooley. "I'll send in an order for an APB for this Lawrence Oldman, too. He can't be far away, this isn't that big a town."


	4. Segment 3

Flashing red-and-blue screen with the word COPS printed on it. Fade-out to a marked patrol car. An athletic young man in police uniform was driving the car. A young, brown-haired woman in her twenties rode in the passenger seat.

* * *

"I'm Officer James Simpson, of the Lytton PD; my partner's Kathy Rhodes. Both of us are currently in the Vice Unit. I've served in the force for ten years, as a Traffic cop, a Burglary Detective, and a Homicide Detective before this, and I think I've enjoyed being a Homicide Officer the best. Police work in Lytton is very rewarding work; I've had my share of hard times, but I've also had a lot of fun, a lot of adventure, and found a lot of fulfillment in my career. Every day I feel like I'm doing something good for the people, and my fellow officers admire me, too, referring to me as 'the Cool Dude.'"

"Officer Rhodes received news from an anonymous informant that two ladies that used to gamble illegally at the Hotel Delphoria are going to be playing a private game for some unknown stakes tonight," Simpson continued. "She and I have been ordered to observe the game from cover, and then arrest them after they committed the crime in front of our eyes. Location is at Oak and 1st, the very northwest of Lytton, in a rest area for travelers driving through the city on the highway. We think they may be tied to another attempt to revive the card games at the Hotel, and the illegal gambling here has already milked a lot of innocent people of their savings."

Simpson pulled up to the small park and concealed the car in a place where they could surprise anyone making foot bail and trap them. He got out and prepared to take his place. "Kathy, you cover the exit," said Simpson, "I'll go into the park and do the stakeout."

"Right behind you, partner," said Rhodes.

Simpson entered the park and hid behind a large tree and the bushes beside it. He waited for about fifteen minutes, which the COPS crew skipped over, until a woman entered the area near a small, round table. She went to the table and waited until the other woman came along. They whispered among themselves for a minute, and them they sat down and laid out their cash and dice. "Unusual," said Simpson quietly, "The Delphoria gamblers usually use cards, not dice." He heard them say the usual terminology associated with dice games, and one of them looked triumphant and the other disappointed as a winner was pronounced.

Simpson called out, "Halt! Police officer!" and drew his gun.

The women cursed and tried to flee, but were cornered by Rhodes and the patrol car. Simpson and Rhodes were down on them like a rock, and soon they were both handcuffed. They were led back to the table, where their stash was still lying.

"All right, ladies," said Simpson, "What are your names?"

"Jenny Phillips," said one.

"Lisa Flex," said the other.

"Would you mind telling us what you're doing here, gambling in the middle of a mostly-empty rest area?" Simpson said. "First of all, the gambling activities usually take place at the Hotel Delphoria. Secondly, gambling is illegal in Lytton, as it is in most of the rest of the country."

"Officer," said Jenny, "we were just playing a friendly little game of dice. We wanted to figure out which one of us would win ownership of the boyfriend we've been fighting over. I won and Lisa lost. That's all. We weren't trying to break any laws."

"Um hmm," said Simpson. "And, what do you mean by 'ownership' of your boyfriend? I mean, most people don't approve of being owned like a possession, you know that, right?"

"He's a very effeminate young man," said Lisa, "And he's a little weak, too. We're very strong women. He needs us to support him, not the other way around, like it usually is in a relationship."

"And what was the cash for?" Simpson asked next. "That counts as gambling, too, you know."

"We had a lot of money on our hands," said Lisa, "and we were also playing for who would get the cash to support Ronny at the beginning of Jenny's relationship with him. Why do you ask, may I ask?"

"Well, basically," said Simpson, "gambling is not something to get involved in unless you live in Atlantic City or Nevada, where it's legalized. People can get hurt by losing their funds, or by causing others to lose their funds when gambling seduces them."

"But our gambling was innocent, sir!" protested Lisa, "We weren't hurting anybody! We just couldn't decide which of us deserved Ronny more, and we decided to leave it up to chance."

"It's still against the law to gamble, ma'am," said Simpson, "If you don't already know the whole story as to why it is, then this isn't the time nor the place to explain all the facts to you."

"Yes," said Rhodes, "And effeminate or not, it isn't right to control any man's fate, especially not with gambling. Even if this Ronny is a little weak in spirit or body, I think that since there's one of him and two of you, _he_ should decide which of you to have, and through human choice rather than with dice."

"Seeing as you're kind enough to lecture us on the ethics of gambling," said Jenny sarcastically, "I guess we're going to jail, right?"

"Yes, you are," said Simpson, "But first, my partner and I have to investigate the evidence we have here and gather it up to be turned in." Then Rhodes read the women their Miranda rights, and put them in the back seats of the patrol car.

Simpson and Rhodes went back to the table and Simpson picked up the dice they had used for their game. They also gathered up and counted the cash in three wads of dough. "Wow, ten thousand dollars was their stake," said Rhodes, "And in a place as public as this, where anybody could have stolen it, too!"

"Not a wise thing to do with money for gambling, or anything else," said Simpson. "This money could be used to support charity, or heal sick children, or some other good deed, and they bring it all to a park in cash and gamble on who's going to get it in order to support a supposedly weak young man."

"And a criminal could have taken it," said Rhodes. "I think they're going to have to spend some time in jail."

"Yes," said Simpson, "But first, I want to know what connection they have with the Delphoria gambling. The game they played might have been a very simple one, but they could still be expert card sharks and cheaters."

"Yeah, I agree," said Rhodes.

They walked back to the patrol car, and radioed in their information to Dispatch, also calling for a tow truck to take the gamblers' car to a lot to be impounded.

"Okay, ladies," said Simpson, "There's another thing we have to ask you. We have reason to believe that you are connected to the illegal card games at the Hotel Delphoria. Evidently, you've gambled before, a lot of times, maybe. What exactly is your connection with the Hotel gambling?"

The suspects were silent.

"All right," said Simpson, "Put your feet up into the car if you won't talk, but you'll get in bigger trouble if you don't cooperate with us right now."

"All right, all right!" said the suspects at the same time. "I'm the younger sister of Gene Bamboni," said Jenny, "who was imprisoned years ago for playing cards with that Frank Sloan character. I changed my last name so I wouldn't be instantly identified with him when someone associated with me. He showed me the ropes of playing games like Blackjack, Five-Card Draw, Texas Hold 'Em, and Lowball. He promised me that a lot of profit could be made if I learned to play like a pro."

"And is that where all these wads of money come from, your winnings?" asked Simpson.

"You could say that, yes," said Jenny. "I just wanted to support Ronny, and playing for money seemed to be a good way to get it."

"And I made hundreds playing with some of the locals at the Delphoria watering hole," said Lisa, "It seemed like a good break for me. I can't afford to move to Nevada, and I hear that there are some pretty shady people in Atlantic City, so I couldn't see what was wrong with doing it here. And I also couldn't understand why there's such a fuss over gambling in the American government, anyway."

"Like I said, if you don't already know about it, it's too long a story to elaborate on right here, right now," said Simpson. "But the point is, you broke the law by gambling for cash and another person's life out here, and you've just confessed to playing at the Hotel Delphoria, and to one of you associating with (and related to) Gene Bamboni. And right now, you're under arrest on all those charges. I know that it's hard sometimes to support someone you care about, and that the allure of gambling can be tempting to anyone. But this is not the place to do such things. It is not a good way to make money. When you're released from custody, you're both going to have to find another way to help yourselves and Ronny… what's his last name? We may have a little to talk with him about after today's events."

"He's Ronny Chap," said Jenny.

"Good. Thank you. Just keep in mind what I told you, and maybe you'll be able to reform yourselves one day," said Simpson. Now put your feet in the car." They did, and Simpson and Rhodes closed the doors.

* * *

Fade-out to red-and-blue flashing screen with the word COPS printed on it.

"Okay, Kathy," said James Simpson, "Let's take them in. Book them for illegal gambling in a public place, resisting arrest without violence, and confessing to more illegal gambling at the Hotel Delphoria in the past. And let's be careful with that cash and those dice. They may be connected with use in the Delphoria, too."


	5. End Titles

**END TITLES**

"83-32, this is Dispatch. Please respond to an 11-83 at Fig and 4th."

"83-32, this is 83-31. Time for that 11-98 at Carol's Caffeine Castle."

"Dispatch, this is 53-Mary-2. We are 10-8 from the Lytton Police Department."

* * *

"We have a Code 3, 83-35."

End credits roll. They include the production staff of _Police Quest_, the crew of _COPS_, and "BAD BOYS THEME" by INNER CIRCLE. "Bad Boys" plays in the background.

_**Langley Productions**_

**Fox Television Stations Productions**

**20****TH**** CENTURY FOX**


End file.
